Zucchini: The good, the bad and the ugly

At its heart, the definition of “neighbor” is a warm and fuzzy one. Typically, they wave when you drive by, pick up your mail when you’re out of town, and keep an eye out for unusual activity. Has anyone else noticed a recent shift in their behavior? I’m talking bizarre changes that include, but are not limited to, the following: avoiding eye contact, hurriedly scurrying in their house at the sound of your vehicle entering your driveway, and—weirdest of all—randomly opening their front door, looking out, then quickly closing and locking it. Only one phenomenon can explain this erratic behavior: That’s right—zucchini season.

What is it about this sign of late summer that brings out such odd behavior? One would think that the act of sharing the earth’s bounty would bring joy and gratitude, but not with zucchini. Similar in shape and size to cucumbers, zucchini has a hidden superpower of doubling in size OVERNIGHT. We’re talking looking like a gherkin on Tuesday and a Louisville Slugger by Thursday.

I’m not a gardener, but feel the need to ask what gets in to the minds of well-meaning people, who, year after year, plant more than a few seeds of this stuff? In the late winter, as they lovingly peruse the latest seed catalog, isn’t at least one of them listening to The Who singing Won’t Be Fooled Again? Is it the lack of daylight that leads them to believe that this year will be different? That they’ll actually thin the plants (whatever that means), harvest them when they’re small, and finally learn how to cook their tender blossoms? Suddenly, it’s August (again) and they have yet another bumper crop to “share.” I’ve read of people actually placing zucchini in unlocked cars. (Don’t say you haven’t been warned.)

Speaking of cooking, like many people, I have a stack of zucchini recipes. This year, I branched out beyond the tried-and- true zucchini bread and actually found a recipe for—drumroll, please—zucchini brownies. Despite the fact that it includes 2 sticks of butter and a cup and a half of sugar, I’ve convinced myself that it also counts as a vegetable serving. My next adventure will be zucchini lasagna. When reading the recipe, I was a bit put off by the reality of creating 40-5/16” vertical slices to make the noodles, but that all changed when I recently found a $270 mandolin at a Seattle thrift store for $9.50. I’m sure divine intervention was involved.

In my never-ending desire to change the current reality, I have an idea for making zucchini fun again—hosting local zucchini toss events. Form teams of people who create novel ways to launch these missiles with prizes being given in a variety of categories, from distance to most creative. I’m seeing catapults, giant slingshots, baseball bats (real ones), and whatever other means are necessary to give these fruits of the earth the send off we need. And deserve.